


Always a Bridesmaid

by Kizzywiggle



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, I ship Mallorpenny so hard, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzywiggle/pseuds/Kizzywiggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve is James's Woman of Honour at his wedding to Q, and it looks like she won't even get the obligatory wedding shag until an offer comes from an unexpected quarter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always a Bridesmaid

**Author's Note:**

> An old one of mine, reposted.
> 
> I love Mallorpenny.

# Always a Bridesmaid

Q turned to James, threading a shaking hand through his short blonde hair, and kissed him deeply. They separated a moment later, both flushed and happy, and turned to walk out of the hotel ballroom where they'd just celebrated their marriage .

Eve gathered her bouquet, put her biggest, brightest smile on her face, and followed the happy newlyweds from the room. All through the photos and into the afternoon reception (where both grooms toasted her for her friendship and being James’s ‘Best Woman’ - Q nearly sincerely) she kept smiling, smiling, endlessly smiling, until her face cramped and her teeth ached from being ground together. By the time the evening disco began, back in the ballroom, she was more than ready to take advantage of the free bar. She danced for a while, flirting and laughing most convincingly, nibbled at the selection of canapés on offer, then finally parked herself at the bar, where she ordered “The most ridiculous, tastelessly colourful and improbable cocktail you do, please”, and waited for it to arrive. _Always the bridesmaid, Eve, my love,_ she thought bitterly, then toasted herself with what appeared to be a disgustingly vulgar and exceedingly alcoholic cocktail, knocking it back in one. She hiccupped, horrified when it turned into a swallowed sob, and waved a beautifully manicured finger at the very pretty, regrettably very, _very_ gay barman for another, and slumped further down on the barstool.

There had been a time when she'd crushed hard on James – what red-blooded woman wouldn't? The man was a living, breathing nuclear warhead in the war of the sexes, trained to seduce and flirt, and Eve had always had a preference for…well, the 'morally ambiguous' types. But once he'd realised Q returned his feelings and they'd started their relationship Eve knew she'd never get a look-in. She'd had casual hook-ups with other, less feral men since then (being as fond of attention and sex as the next woman) but was so desperately sick and tired of the impermanence of her love life. Not that she truly really wanted marriage and babies – she didn't plan to be stuck as M's Office Liaison forever, she had Plans with a capital 'P' – but it'd be nice to have someone to go home to, someone to cuddle up to, to argue about whose turn it was to take out the bins or do the shopping or empty the cat litter tray. Grabbing the new (even vulgar-er…more vulgar? Truly spectacular, anyway) cocktail, Eve went to down it, only to sputter half of it down the front of her beautiful dark-plum bridesmaid's dress when a smooth, rich voice spoke from behind her shoulder.

“Steady on, Moneypenny, I heard those glow-in-the-dark cocktails can be a bit, er, lethal!”

Mopping at her front with an ineffective napkin, Eve turned, sighing inwardly. “Evening, Sir,” she said to M, pasting on her office smile. “How did you enjoy the wed-” She broke off when she noticed Mallory's eyes glued to her chest where she was still swiping at the spilt cocktail. “Sir?” she questioned.

M visibly started, and dragged his eyes up to Eve's. “Oh, er, um, weddings aren't really my thing, to be honest,” he admitted ruefully, rubbing a hand over his slightly-receding hairline. His normally serious eyes twinkled as he looked at Eve. “Once you get to my age, and everyone seems to have paired off, it gets a little…I don't know, uncomfortable, maybe? One’s family makes wedding noises, one’s friends talk about the wonder of marriage, of children, and so on…” he made a rueful face. “And I'm just desperate to get home, finish up my paperwork, maybe have a bit of a wank. Oh, my God, did I say that?” His English-pale skin flushed dark across his aristocratic cheekbones, the tips of his ears reddening. “Ignore what I said about the cocktails, Moneypenny, it's obviously the whisky you need to be wary of. I only had the one - God, I'm _so_ mortified!”

Before she could stop herself, Eve grinned wickedly, teeth bright against her rich skin and dark, shiny lipstick. “Not to worry, Sir,” she flirted, “I daresay I'm the same!” She batted long, curly eyelashes at her boss, ignoring the very tiny, very quiet voice at the back of her brain which was screaming _THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!!_ in favour of seeing just how out-of-character her normally implacable, unflappable boss would behave with a smidgeon of encouragement. She leaned slowly past him, brushing her left breast against his left arm, then leaned back, waving a small wad of napkins at him. Eve dabbed with meticulous teasing slowness at the wet mark on her bodice, pushing her shoulders back, her chest out. “I've just got to sort this little spill out,” she explained breathily. “Don't want to be dealing with…wet patches…”

By this point, the little voice had given up, wandered off, and seemingly taken Eve’s inhibitions with it. She arched and dabbed and licked her lips, making a three-act-opera out of one tiny little spill. But, oh, it was worth it: Mallory was now staring openly at Eve’s cleavage, eyes glittering, pupils wide and dark, breath sawing between his parted lips. She gave a last theatrical dab and dropped the crumpled napkin on the bar. She stroked a languid hand across her collarbones and watched him track the movement, nostrils flaring, scenting her like the predator he was. Eve felt a quiver of response low down in her tummy, a tingle between her legs. She drew in a suddenly shaky breath.

Mallory leaned forward until his face was next to Eve’s, a whisper of breath between them. His open jacket just barely grazed her skin, and she shivered. He whispered in her ear, his voice low and urgent, his breath almost a caress in itself. “Well,” he growled, “If _you_ just want a wank, and _I_ just want a wank, what do you think about us going and… I don't know, maybe wanking in the same place? My room, perhaps?” He lightly, barely, scraped his index fingernail along the outside of Eve’s hand, and she shuddered helplessly.

Not giving the little voice time to come back and talk her out of it, Eve said “Yes, God, _yes_ ,” and slid off the stool. She tossed the remains of her cocktail back and held out her hand. “I believe it's time for a little show and tell,” she smiled.

They walked calmly from the ballroom, Mallory’s hand holding Eve’s quite openly. James looked up from gazing into his new husband’s eyes to lift both brows at Eve and mouth “What the hell?” She grinned, finger-waved as sweetly as she could, mouthed back, “Jealous?” and sailed from the room, head held high.

“I'm on the fifth floor,” Mallory said, “Privilege of rank, possibly? Anyway, I've got a rather lovely suite…” He trailed off and looked at Eve, all flushed and giggly with surprised arousal. “Oh, fuck it!” he swore. Mallory looked around, then tugged Eve into a darkened side room. He gathered her into his arms, surprisingly gently, and stroked a shaky hand from her hair, down her neck and cupped her shoulder. “I don't think I can wait,” he said, and, “If you have any doubts, any at all, speak now. If not, may I please, please touch you already?” Eve nodded and he pounced, his lips firm, warm and confident. She sighed into the kiss and opened her mouth just fractionally. He deepened the contact, licking at the sensitive inside of her lower lip, stroking her soft palate with a pointed tongue-tip, breathing moans into her throat, swallowing her groans in return. Eve didn't know how long they stood there, learning each other, simply kissing. It was… rather unexpectedly sweet, really, considering the frank earthiness of Mallory’s proposition. She arched into him, rubbing her body in its slickly shiny bridesmaid's dress against his formal suit. He dropped his hands to her hips and _grabbed_ , yanking her pelvis up against his, grinding his hardness against her softness. The kiss took on a desperate quality, both giving, both taking, both seeking for something just out of reach…

She pulled away. “I don't mind exhibitionism if you don't, but how about we take this to your room, Sir?”

“Gareth,” he said, and grabbing her hand towed her to the lift in the hotel lobby. While they waited for it to descend, he pushed her up against the wall, caged her in with his forearms beside her head and looked at her with eyes suddenly serious. “I mean it, Eve,” he said. “If at any point you have any reservations, all you have to do is say stop, and it stops. Straight away.”

“God,” Eve said, and stretched up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Do you know how sexy that is? Consent is sexy, Gareth. But,” she said, looking deep into his eyes, “I'm here because I want to be, and right now I cannot think of a single thing I want more than to go upstairs with you, please.” The lift dinged it's arrival and they tumbled inside. The journey to the fifth floor was simultaneously the fastest and slowest of Eve’s life. Gareth held her hand tight the whole way up to his room, swiping the card to let them in. Hitting a switch beside the door, the room flooded with soft golden light. He closed the door and turned to her, but she was already there, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head down. She tugged him across the room while they kissed and tussled, him pulling the flowered comb from her hair, her sliding the deep blue, silk-lined jacket from his shoulders. She toed her shoes off, he speared his hands into her hair and tugged gently. By this point they were both flushed, breathless and desperate for the next kiss, the next touch. “Bed?” she asked.

“Next door,” he gasped, chasing her lips for another kiss. He moved away and she followed him.

The bedroom was luxurious, but in that oddly bland way of hotels. It's best and most appealing feature was the simply vast bed set against the left hand wall, facing a wide window, with a bank of mirrored wardrobes to the left. “Bathroom’s through there if you need it,” Gareth offered. Eve blew him a cheeky kiss and took advantage of the offer. In the bathroom she did her business, washed her hands, freshened her face a bit and looked at herself in the mirror. The woman sparkling back at her looked more vital, more present than she had in a long, long time. Eve gave herself a wicked smile, and reached under her dress to pull off her tights and her knickers. She scrumpled them into a tiny ball and took them back into the bedroom, hidden in her skirt. “Your turn?” she queried, and when Gareth closed the door she quickly stuffed the little bundle of underwear under the bed. Then she sat in the middle of the bed and waited.

Gareth came out of the bathroom and leaned on the door frame, faintly silhouetted by the light behind him. He folded his arms across his chest and crossed one leg over the other. “God, look at you,” he said, crisp upper-class vowels roughened with want. “I've had to look at you in the office every day for months - the fantasies I've weaved around you, Eve, oh, God…” he exploded into motion, crossing the gap between them and pushing her back onto the soft bed. He leaned down and nibbled from her mouth to her ear, stopping to suck her earlobe into his mouth, curling his tongue into the shell, then breathed, “The amount of times I've watched you walk across the office and dreamed of you locking the door and jumping me." He chewed his way down her neck, raining kisses across her collarbone and into the valley between her breasts. “The way you look in those beautifully tight sweaters, the way you guard me against all invaders, and your wonderful wit, oh, God, oh God!” He hooked a finger into the bodice of her gown, tugging until her nipples popped free. Gareth sat back on his heels and reached out to plump her breasts with an almost disbelieving touch. Eve cried out and pushed her aching breasts into his hands.

“I've dreamed of you, too,” she confessed. “It might not be very modern of me, but the idea of you bending me over your desk and fucking me six ways until Sunday has given me so many bloody fantastic orgasms!“ She groaned as he bent and sucked just the tip of her left nipple into his mouth, his left hand teasing and twisting her right nipple to stiffly aroused attention. Eve clasped his head and writhed beneath his touch. Erotic confessions spilled from her lips as he teased and touched, switching his mouth to her other nipple and licking it roughly with a flat tongue before he enveloped her entire areola with his hot mouth. “Sometimes, after you've reamed out a double-oh, or told off the PM, or when you look at me in that confident - oh, do that again, yes! - that way, I have to lock myself in the loo - ah! - and take care of things so I could - please! - concentrate on work. Ohhhhh!”

Gareth had discovered how sensitive the underside of Eve’s breasts were, and was devoting himself to driving her crazy. He licked and nipped and sucked until all she could do was twist her hands into the duvet and hang on for dear life. He brought his hands up to cup and plump her breasts together and buried his face between them. “You have such very fuckable, suckable breasts, my love,” he whispered.

Eve pushed against his chest until he shifted off to the side. Sliding off the bed, she presented her back to him. “Unzip me?“ she asked. He crawled over behind her and slowly slid the zip down, pressing kisses along the shallow dip of her spine. When the zip reached her buttocks and he discovered her lack of underwear, there was an audible gasp and he pressed his forehead to the dimpled at the base of her spine, his breath suddenly coming faster and harder. He released her dress and it slid to pool on the carpet, leaving her wearing nothing more than the kiss of light upon her body. She looked back over her shoulder and was utterly stunned by the look on his face. She turned and dropped to her knees, cupping his face between her hands. “Are you OK?“ she asked.

He nodded and leaned in for a kiss so gentle and reverent, Eve thought she might cry. He cupped her face, mirroring her actions. “I'm good,” he said. “Better than good. It's just - even with the booze - I never thought this would happen.” His eyes closed for a moment, then reopened, and the familiar superiority and confidence was back in the wicked look he swept over her. “Now, what's next?“ He pulled Eve up to stand in front of him, his face level with her sternum. He buried his face back between her breasts and swept his hands down her back to cup and knead her backside. Eve widened her stance and gripped his shoulders, still strong and firm through the fabric of his shirt, despite his age. She brought her hands round and loosened his fine silk tie, moving to pull it apart. “Wait,” he ordered. He took the tie from her and slipped it over her head, drawing the knot up to rest just in the hollow above her breasts, the long tail dangling down to just below her navel. “Oh yes,” he breathed. “Get on the bed, please,” he asked, and stood. She moved past him, crawled up the bed, then turned and lay against the pillows, arms spread and knees slightly bent. Gareth stripped down with the speed of a man desperate for contact and stood nude for Eve’s inspection. He was in good shape for a man of fifty plus, with just a slight softening of his midsection in addition to his receding hairline. But he was fit, and obviously took care of himself. He also had a beautiful cock, not an improbable monster or the stuff of porn, just long, and hard, and obviously eager for her. She twirled an imperious finger and he held his hands out whilst turning in a slow circle. Eve whistled appreciatively which made him blush again, and palm the back of his neck sheepishly. He peered up at her and suddenly seemed so strangely young and uncertain that her heart twitched strangely. He was naked in more ways than one, stood there before her.

“Sir?” Eve questioned. Then, gently, “Gareth?”

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I - all of a sudden, I just thought how utterly ridiculous this is. I mean you're so young and beautiful and funny and clever, and I'm just a gruff ex-soldier and sometime spy… What are you doing, Eve?” He sat heavily on the bed. She moved to wrap her arms around him and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. He was such a strange mixture of arrogance and uncertainty, the two combining in a way which was arousing and baffling and just _Gareth_ , she supposed.

“I’m here because I want to be,” she said, and kissed his shoulder again. “Because quite the hottest man at the reception issued the sexiest proposition I've had in almost forever,” she licked, delicately, across the nape of his neck, causing him to shiver. “And because a man I've fantasised about for months, the man I dream about, who fills my waking thoughts, finally noticed me.” She knelt up, sliding her hands forwards and down, over his slightly hair-roughened pectorals, flirting briefly with his nipples to clasp them over his breastbone. By this point her breasts were mashed against his back, the cool length of his silk tie between them, the soft curls between her legs a tickly counterpoint of sensation. Eve ran her nose up the side of his neck, then bit down gently on the strong tendon there. “I'm here, _Sir_ , because you suggested a mutual wank, and I'm hoping against hope that it turns into something more.” She made a single, slow, deliberate undulation against his back and he exhaled, the tension leaving him.

Eve slid a hand between their bodies while she continued to kiss and nip at his ears, neck and shoulders. Her other hand she used to hold him back against her body so he could feel what she was doing. He'd got her so hot just the first time his ridiculously prim voice had said 'wank', that by now she was slick with wanting him. She gently cupped over her mound. “Oh, Gareth, I'm wet,” she crooned, and he grunted. She teased herself with one finger, her moisture helping her finger slid easily through her neat curls to find her aching clitoris. “I'm wet,” she repeated, “And so bloody turned on I could probably get myself off in a couple of minutes.” She lightly rubbed against her clit, teasing both of them with the small gesture.

By now Gareth had palmed his erection and was almost sleepily squeezing and pulling it, just a gentle clench and pull with a twist at the top of the movement. His cock darkened and stiffened as he pulled and Eve continued to whisper in his ear. The head of his cock shone with pre-cum and he arched minutely into his hand. “Oh, Sir, your cock is so gorgeous,” she whispered, and he huffed a short laugh. “It is!” Eve insisted, moving that one finger, that one tiny point of contact on a deliberate but teasing gesture on her clitoris. She kneeled up higher, peering over his shoulder to get a better view of his movements. She moaned, a helpless sound of want, and fell back against the pillows again, spreading her legs to plunge two fingers directly into her wetness. She cried out and brought her other hand up to tease at her nipples.

Gareth turned and crawled to where she lay sprawled out, his eyes roving over her body to feast upon where her fingers were buried inside. “I do believe,” he said, with a twisting smile and most of his usual insouciance, “This is meant to be a mutual exercise?”

“I'm not stopping you!” Eve moaned. She stopped what she was doing and threw him a cheeky look. “Fire away, Chief!” She cocked her head, widened her eyes and bit her lip expectantly. He grinned, and flopped down to lay pressed up against her side, his head level with her right breast, his hard, hot cock resting just above her knee. He reached down but instead of going for his erection, he combed his fingers through her curls.

“May I?” he asked quietly, and Eve nodded her acquiescence. He curled his hand over her mound and teased at her entrance with a long, blunt-tipped finger. Eve nearly forgot to breathe. He slid up and down along her slit, spreading her wetness and learning the shape of her body there, teasing at her clit, dipping briefly in and out of her entry. It was too much and not enough, and Eve was about to try and guide him, when he leaned over and sucked her nipple deep into his mouth just as he pushed two fingers deep inside her. He tongued her tight nipple and stroked, fingers slightly curled and moving inside her, making her tense up and catch her breath. She reached down blindly to capture his hardness, feeling his head warm and smooth in her palm, and he moaned against her breast, a desperate sound. He shuffled up so she could get a better grip, all the while suckling her nipple and stroking inside her with a maddening, almost-there rhythm, and she strove to repeat it with the clasp of her hand about his cock. After a few minutes he moved up and over her; his usually-neat hair dishevelled, his eyes glittering dark, skin flushed with passion. He was wholly, fiercely erect by this time, his cockhead fully exposed and leaking a constant trickle of clear pre-cum. He held himself up in a sort of plank maneuver, head hanging down to touch his forehead to hers, his feet together between hers, and just the faint, teasing weight of his balls resting on her mound, driving her wild. “You sill good?” he questioned, and Eve nodded, sliding her hands over his chest to scrape and pluck his nipples with her nails.

Gareth said “Condom?” Eve flushed. She'd been so caught up, she'd nearly forgotten! She nodded, and Gareth fumbled in the bedside drawer, extracting a shiny, crinkly packet. He tore it open and covered himself with casual efficiency, palming and squeezing his balls when he was done. “I'd very much like to fuck you, Miss Moneypenny,” he grinned, seemingly presenting himself for her approval. She grinned back and brought her hands up to toy with her hard nipples.

“I think I can accommodate you, Sir,” she teased, and parted her legs for him. He swallowed at the sight of her there, and leaned down to briefly nuzzle at the tender crease of her hip, breathing in her Eve-smell. With a grunt and a flurry of movement, he was suddenly _there_ , cock barely breaching her, his elegant, capable body quivering with tension over hers.

“It's down to you, Eve, always,” he said, staring into her eyes. “If you want me, take me, I'm all –“ he cut off with a surprised squeak as she brought her feet up to his buttocks, twisted her hips, and took him deep into her body. They both stilled. Inside, her body twitched and clenched around his hardness, gripping him hotly. After a moment he pulled out, so slowly, so teasingly, before sliding back in. He dragged and ground himself against Eve’s clitoris, making her cry out and arch up to meet him. The faintly smug look on his face both amused and challenged her.

Eve undid the tie around her neck and quickly draped it back around Gareth's. Instead of fastening it, she grabbed each end and used it to pull his face down to hers. Biting his lower lip, then licking the small wound she said, “Sir…Gareth…if you don't fuck me, and fuck me hard _right now_ , I'm afraid I can't be held responsible for my actions!” Eve used the tie to keep his head where she wanted it, then wound her legs up over his hips, pulling his body deeper within hers, rocking hard against him. He cursed, took her mouth in a ferocious kiss, and began to fuck into her with the desperation of a dying man and the precise rhythm of a Swiss watch. Before long they were panting and groaning together, pleas and swearwords filling the air along with the sound of their bodies coming together wetly. He added a twist, a rub at the top of his thrust which caught all of Eve’s oh-my-God-YES spots, and she felt herself starting to tighten with her orgasm. She gripped the tie around his neck tighter and pulled herself up to rub her breasts against his chest. “I'm - I'm gonna-“ she yelled, and he grunted and pounded into her with greater speed. All of a sudden, her entire body imploded, before exploding out with heat and light and stars. She pushed up against him, hard, and cried out his name. Gareth pumped into her twice more before burying his face in her neck and coming on a drawn-out masculine scream of pleasure. His entire body shuddered and tensed before he collapsed bonelessly on top of her. Eve moved her hand up to pat his back absently and turned her face to press a kiss in his hair. “Wow…” she said.

“Mmmm!” Gareth agreed incoherently. He reluctantly rolled off of her, and the bed, wandering into the bathroom to deal with the condom. The loo flushed, the tap ran, and he re-entered the bedroom. Eve scooted under the covers and patted the bed next to her. Gareth slid into bed and turned to face her. “Thank you,” he said, and pressed a kiss to her brow.

Eve smiled. “Thank you, too,” she replied. “Is this…is this just tonight, Gareth? Because I really, I mean _really_ enjoyed this tonight, and I'd not say no to a rematch…?” she tailed off and waited for his reply.

When it came, she thought her heart would stop.

“I've wanted you since the first time I saw you at Six,” Gareth stated. “So poised, so confident, poured into that frankly impossible tight skirt, and ordering the department with ruthless, cheerful efficiency. I watched you, I listened to you, and I wished I could just find the nerve to make a move. But I couldn’t – I mean, I'm older than you, not much to look at, and I know I'm prone to gruffness. What can I offer you?” He stroked her face like she was made of porcelain. "But you looked so miserable, so alone tonight,” he said, “And I thought, why not? You could only say no, after all!

“But you didn’t.

“You said yes, and I can honestly say I've never been as scared in my life. Not even facing down the IRA during my tour of Ireland. But, Eve…” he swallowed, his 'M' mask nowhere present in the vulnerable man before her. “I've also never been as happy. So, to cut a long story short, yes. Yes there will be a rematch, as many as you'd like. For as long as you want me.” Gareth kissed her softly, and Eve felt tears rising up.

“I'm pleased,” she said simply, “Because you blew my mind too, Gareth. Let's just see where this takes us, OK?” she rolled so he was under her, and stretched her body out along his, pulling his discarded tie out from beneath the covers. “Now,” she smiled, “I understand you older guys have a longer refractory period…but why don't we find out just how long?”

As Gareth laughed, Eve grabbed his wrists to bind them loosely together. It was going to be a long, fun night. And then – who knew?


End file.
